As It Burns
by Mizuno-Suzuka
Summary: The burning of The World Tree, told from the various points of view of Citizens and heroes of Azeroth. There are spoilers ahead!
1. Chapter 1

As It Burns: One:

Alstromerea and Cryzanth: Mourning

.. WARNING, SPOILERS AHEAD ..

Cryzanth's lava burst hollowed out the sentinal and for a moment, she just stared at the smouldering corpse of the ethereal creature. Nearby she heard other members of the Horde, attacking sentinals or putting down crazed Furbolgs that roamed the area. She looked up, scanning quickly for her sister. Nothing. She sighed, holstering her mace and walking towards the shoreline.

Her thoughts were set ablaze by the grunting, screeches and harsh sounds of weapons being drawn and set upon into flesh. She ignored the sentinals standing ready towards the small villages on the shoreline, instead scanning the area for her sister. The priest was nowhere to be seen however, and Cryzanth scowled, for a moment, allowing a slight panic to settle in the pit of her stomach. Alstromerea was a smart priest, but, as her nature suggested, was too kind. She would be gullible to say the least, and Cryzanth couldn't afford to lose another sibling to the Alliance.

Stepping back into the trees, she moved quickly North, keeping her eyes out of a sploth of golden yellow amongst the clay-brown earth. Plenty of reds. Plenty of blues too. No bright and sunny yellow priest. This was likely a good thing, she thought to herself, but in some ways, she couldn't see how. A few orc grunts ran past her, and she sidled close to a tree, waiting until their footsteps faded to continue. She wasn't interested in getting involved in whatever they were doing at the moment. She had only plans to find her sister and report back to the Commander of the East regiment, as required by their warchief.

The deep set panic burned at her appetite, though she hadn't eaten in almost a day. Why did she and 'Merea seperate anyway? She knew it was a foolish idea, but they'd both been so... upset. They'd spent weeks assisting the war effort to secure Darnassus, their hearts and heads grieving for what they'd both lost.

That would be a moot point if her sister died too.

"No- Stop!" Cryzanth spun around, recognizing her sister's panicked voice and immediately running to find her. She slid through the sand and found her, back to the ocean, hand in front of her face, useless artifact T'uure several feet from her. A tall sprucely Night Elf aimed an arrow for her heart, and Cryzanth wasted no time in summoning a bolt of lightening to meet hers instead. The Elf spun aroud at the crackling sound but it was already too late. The stream of lightening pulsed through her heart and she crumpled to the ground, dead. Alstromerea's eyes were wide and she had gashes along her arm and cheeks, her dress ragged and torn. Cryzanth ran to her sister, not even sparing a glance at the Elf she had just killed.

"Alstromerea, are you okay?" Her sister reached up and grasped her sister's arms, her eyes still wide like golden coins.

"I'm alright, I'm alive." Cryzanth scowled.

"What were you thinking?" Cryzanth hissed at her, pulling her sister in to embrace her. "I could have lost you. Why were you even trying to negotiate with her? She was going to kill you!" Alstromerea didn't answer, instead turning her face into her sister's chest and breathing slowly.

"It's okay." She said soothingly, wrapping her arms around her sister. "She didn't." She paused, feeling the shaman tense.

"I didn't want to kill her." Alstromerea admitted, her cheeks warming at the confession. "I was hoping she'd leave the shore and help her people evacuate the area... She either didn't understand me or didn't care."

"Dummy." Cryzanth replied, sighing deeply. "Next time leave the negotiations to me, alright?" This time Alstromerea scowled.

"Your negotiations don't end well."

Cryzanth was about to reply when a high keening sound was heard nearly a hundred meters from them. The catapults, parked just off the shoreline and facing the tree, had begun to fire. The two sisters watched as pieces of slag were hurled at the world tree, setting it ablaze in a brilliant inferno.

"No." Alstromerea whispered, covering her mouth. "No!"

In what seemed like mere seconds the entire tree was alight with flame, the smoke thickening the sky and darkening their surroundings. Ash fell from the clouds in plumes of gray and orange, and the screams could be heard from across the bay.

"What... what have they done?" Alstromerea asked her sister, tears streaming from her eyes.

"They set it on fire. It's burning to ash now." Alstromerea nuzzled her cheek into her sister's chest, unable to stop the tears from flowing from her eyes. The priest could think of nothing but the horrid screams emanating from the depths of the world tree, as everyone inside's fate was sealed by the ominous black smoke.

"Cryzanth, what have we-"

"Don't." The shaman chastized sternly, her expression all steel. She stared straight ahead, watching as the flames consumed the supple wooden home. "Don't start that. You'll never be able to recover from that."

"We're monsters, Cryzanth. _We_ did this." She emphasized, the tears falling harder. "And for what?" Cryzanth's grip on her sister's shoulders hardened. Alstromerea looked up at her sister's face. The fire glittered in her eyes, and for a moment, Alstromerea saw that this battle had had an entirely different effect on the shaman.

"For Helix. For Nuzz. For our _brothers_ , 'Merea." Alstromerea flinched. Yes... The rage she'd felt when she and Cryzanth had come across their murdered corpses in Silithus. They'd just become old enough to start work. Just this last month. Their parents were dead, but Alstromerea had taken in their three youngest siblings, fed them, clothed them, and kept them safe in Dalaran. For a time. What were they going to tell Lina? The youngest girl still remained in Dalaran, waiting for her brothers and sisters to come home. Oblivious to the impending war, to the destruction and deaths of her family.

But this...

This couldn't be revenge... This was horror. This was rage.

"Do you recall how it felt, sister?" Cryzanth said, her voice holding little to no inflection. As if she'd turned herself off to everything around her. Everything but her eyes, which harbored a rage more dangerous than the fire of the world tree. "To come across Helix's head sheared clean from his body? To see Nuzz's sweet smile permanently turned to agony, with stab wounds across his chest?" She paused, shaking her head. "The elements share my agony today. There are no winners in this battle. I can't shake this... rage I feel. But I can't bring myself to feel sorry for _them_ either." Alstromerea hugged her sister tighter, turning her face away from the tree and closing her eyes. Cryzanth hummed under her breath, and sighed gently.

The tree burned on.

..

The first of a few to come! I will mostly be covering Horde POV, but I may have an alliance character or two to throw in there. Enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

As It Burns: Chapter 2

The Hexknot sisters.

...

"Tristee, would you hurry up?" Azerieh huffed out, hauling a large sack of provisions over her shoulder and blowing a stray strand of red hair out of her face. "The battle is _that_ way."

"I'm well aware of which way they're gettin' all bloodied up." Tristee leered back, tossing the last of the provision bags into her Void-Lord's waiting arms. "No need to rush it. All we're doin' is bringin' food to the front anyway." Azerieh sent her sister a look that read as a warning, but Tristee merely rolled her eyes and snapped her fingers at the demon.

"C'mon Galaton, let's beat it before my sis' has a coniption fit." She said, sending a sassy wink her sister's way. The warrior in response rolled her eyes, before moving along beside the warlock and her pet void-creature.

"Do you think Xae and Crys are already on the front?" Azerieh asked, eyes sparkling at the prospect of getting to fight on the front lines. Tristee shrugged, keeping a weather eye on the trees around Ashenvale.

"I don't doubt it." Tristee said. "Crys _is_ one of the commander's after all. The Warchief's been very... particular, towards her as of late."

"More towards the High Overlord if you asked me." Azerieh argued, adjusting the heavy sack in her hands. "Seems like any day now there might be a Mak'gora on the horizon." Tristee sent her sister a severe look.

"Don't say that!" She hissed. "You don't know who could be listening."

"Ah, who cares. We're getting paid, aren't we?" Azerieh replied flippantly. "'Sides, what's got your knickers in a twist? Nervous you might have to get your hands dirty?" Tristee struggled not to roll her eyes at the goblin warrior.

"I'm not nervous about anything." Tristee stated, her narrow eyes nearing slits as she assessed her sister. "We're here to do our job, and to serve the Horde. What else is there to do at this point anyway?"

"Yeah, without all those bounties to collect in the Broken Isles I guess things are real difficult to keep from boredom." Azerieh replied dryly.

"Think what you want sis." Tristee said. "But it doesn't really matter what _we_ think anyway." Azerieh nodded her head in agreement, and the two goblins continued on towards the rendez-vous point.

...

Xaedrienne felt as if this was a never-ending cycle.

Her gun was cocked and sat on her hip as she blended into the trees, her eyes scanning for the tell-tale purple of the sentinal's skin, or a flash of black that marked the druids of the Claw. So far she'd only picked off a couple, and in all honesty, she was finding it harder and harder to stay put in the tree.

But Hector had insisted...

She sighed, hand absently running along her belly. She heard a slight ruffle of the trees and hitched the gun up to her shoulder, eye on the scope and breathing slowed to a near stop. In her periferals she saw a small group of sentinals, clad in their scanty armor and looking angrier than a hungry warpstalker, running towards the beach, arrows nocked and paces quick. She cursed beneath her breath.

 _"Only single targets, and by the Titans if I_ hear _that you left the tree I swear to the Warchief-"_

Her smile was brittle, but tugged at her cheeks anyway. He was always looking out for her best interests but _now..._ Her hand absently brushed her belly again. Now wasn't the time to get distracted.

Once again setting her eye inside the scope, she roamed the landscape again, willing her eyes to see further, focus harder. Her concentration was rewarded, as a stray sentinal with a severe face and rough, ugly scar crossing from her shoulder to neck, tip-toed towards her area, bow nocked and ready to fire. Xaedrienne let out a slow, quiet breath and focused the gun, pulling lightly back on the trigger until the telltale sound of gunpowder burst forth, the sound travelling in the dense foliage as the Sentinal crumpled to the ground, a hole through her head. Xaedrienne strapped the gun to her back and slid down the trunk of the tree, grimacing when her feet hit the ground. No telling how many of the sentinals had heard it, and so, it was time to relocate. This time, hopefully, not to a tree.

She wandered through the denser part of the forrest quietly, avoiding the edges towards the beach as often as she could. Many of the Night Elven villages were built on the outskirts of the sandy shores, and she was strictly forbidden from engaging large groups. Not to mention, she wasn't stupid. She knew how deadly the Kaldorei could be. The last thing she needed was to die here.

Keeping an ear open, she considered for a moment summoning her pet Panthera to sniff out some rogues or hidden archers, but decided against it. The creature was obedient, sure, and would no doubt find exactly what she asked him to, but there was no guarantee he'd be quiet about it. And she needed stealth. She wished she hadn't stabled Kiri back in Dalaran, she could use the raptor's quiet hunting viciousness right about now. Especially right now.

She crouched down when her ears picked up a low crunching sound and slipping of plate armor approaching her previous hideout near the tree. She peeked out, squinting and her eyes widened to see a familiar set of armor glinting in the evening sun. As if he knew she'd spotted him, his eyes turned towards her, a slight smile lighting up his face.

"I see ya there, Xae." Hector said, his gravelly voice familiar and warm. "Why don't you come on out. The area is clear."

Xaedrienne stood, but made no move to approach Hector. Her hunter's instincts were going wild, and something felt... wrong. She quickly averted her eyes, left, right, but saw no signs of the enemy nearby.

"What's wrong?" Hector asked, placing a hand on his sword, looking back and forth as she had, eyes narrowing. Xaedrienne took one step forward, but kept her hand on her gun.

"Just a hunch." She said vaguely. "Is your strike group already at the front?"

"Yeah, they're makin' good progress." He emphasized, taking slow steps towards her. "I came back ta getcha. Wouldn't want to keep ya tree'd." Xaedrienne tensed a little bit, and Hector stopped, tilting his head.

"Xae... What's wrong, you're actin' funny." He said, holding out a hand to her. She hesitated.

"Hec..." She said slowly, keeping her expression neutral. "What would you say if I told you I didn't want to do this anymore... and that we should start a family?" The male goblin hesitated, a look of confusion spreading on his face.

" _If we get seperated, there's some things you need to know." Hector said, handing her a cool mug of water. "The Alliance will be everywhere. I can't risk you gettin' hurt out there. Not... not now." He looked at her meaningfully and she back at him._

 _"I won't let you and my sisters fight this battle without me." She replied stubbornly, keeping her arms crossed. Hector chuckled, rubbing a calloused hand along her arm gently._

 _"I didn't think you ever would, toots." He said. "Which is why I'm going to tell you a little secret." He laid his hand on her belly. "I've travelled many places, seen all sorts of war and carnage. But the biggest, best thing I've ever seen, is you carryin' our first little one."_

 _"You can't even tell." Xae said, but the blush still lit her cheeks up. He grinned, and she tilted her head in response._

 _"I know." He replied. "Use that to your advantage. If you're ever unsure, just ask me what I would say if you wanted to just quit and start a family." He looked up with his red eyes, warm despite their tone. "I better answer with, we already have."_

"I mean, toots, is this really the time for this question?" Xaedrienne was pulled from the brief memory and a smile lit her face. Hector's face relaxed and he took another step towards her, bidden by her expression of happiness.

"No, it's not." She agreed. Faster than lightening, she had the gun in her hands, cocked and finger on the trigger. "Bye, Alliance scum." She pulled on the trigger and the blast knocked the phony goblin off his feet, flying back into a nearby tree and groaning as he slid down it. The illusion faded, leaving a human rogue in his place, glaring at her angrily as the blood poured from his mouth. Xaedrienne stepped forward and leant down next to him carefully.

"You all think we're just monsters that don't have feelings." She said, pushing a lock of greying hair out of his face. "But our bonds are strongest _because_ we are the Horde. We don't build off of societal norms like you do." She paused, unsheathing a dagger from her belt. "I'll give you a choice. I can end the pain now, or leave you here to bleed out. It's your choice."

"Horde... filth." The human spat, a few flecks of blood making it onto her face. She shook her head, sending a pitying look his way.

"We have to endure somehow." She said sadly, holstering her gun. " We stand by our Warchief." Xaedrienne turned away from the dying rogue and disappeared again into the forest expanse.

...

"Crysanthemum, come here." The death knight's eyes hardly shifted in response to the echoed demonic lilt of her companion, but she nevertheless dropped the crate of explosives and walked over to where the demon hunter was standing over a map, his sightless gaze trained on the edges.

"What now?" She asked, her inflectionless voice hardly raising a question.

"When was the last time you spoke directly to the Warchief?" He asked her curiously, looking up from the map. Crysanthemum shrugged, her plate armor scraping against itself.

"An hour ago or so, why?"

"Have you looked at her maps?"

"No. Nor do I care for them if I'm being honest." The demon hunter, Dessivh, looked at her.

"Then what _do_ you care for?" He asked. She scanned the edge of the forest near where previously, a wall of wisps had lain.

"I am waiting for Xaedrienne's husband's batallion to make it this way. Then for my sister to follow."

"Thats... not at all what the Warchief asked from you." Crysanthemum sent him a withering look, but made no further comment. She walked back to the edge of the forest, staring out at the patch of corpses that littered the area. The draw of necromantic energy coursed throught her veins at the prospect of raising the dead, but she did nothing of the sort. Despite her personal acceptance of her unlife, she would subject no-one else to her lot. Not after the Legion's return forced her to raise the four Horseman. Not after facing the suspicions that their current Warchief was looking to introduce _all_ of the living to a life of unending torment and suffering.

Oh, she knew what the Warchief was planning. In a way, it made sense. One could not truly die if they were already dead. At least not in the same sense. Undead soldiers needn't eat, sleep, rest, or comply with basic familiarity for social purpose. Perfect soldiers. Perfect subjects. Something she had found distasteful since her concious return from the depths of the Lich King's control. She said none of this to anyone. She couldn't very well prove that this was what the Warchief was planning this, since she'd never actually _said_ anything, but she knew, as did the other Death Knights around her, that her actions only led to one destination.

How no-one else had realized yet was beyond her.

A hand to the shoulder broke her from her reverie, and she looked up at the bandaged eyes of the blood elf she'd named her companion.

"You know something." It wasn't a question. Unlike her, the demon hunter still had the ability to range his emotions. He could see through her seemingly uncaring exterior.

"I care more about my sister's safety then I do for this bloodshed." She admitted. "We're only beginning another war. One I'm not so sure we deserve to win."

"As the Horde?" She turned to him sharply.

"The Horde... is my family. And My family was welcomed by the Horde." She said. "But... Azeroth is dying. And we are here fighting each other instead." Dessivh started at this. He'd forgotten about the wound in Silithus, and by extension, the Azerite. But it seemed, Crysanthemum had more on her mind then laying waste to a couple Night Elves. Not that he felt she was against the bloodshed altogether. She'd described to him once the insatiable need to shed blood to maintain her sanity.

"Then what do you mean, little flower?" Dessivh asked, kneeling down to be eye level with the death knight. She averted her eyes.

"I _mean_ , "she said, her voice low. "This is only the beginning of another long war that I'm not sure I want any part of." This was a surprise to him. As long as he'd known her , which wasn't long, he'd admit, she'd been involved in near every campaign, every assault, every breach that had existed since the Legion came to Azeroth. Her attacks were lethal, her strategies genius. Her ruthlessness common for a death knight, but the genuine care with which she avoided slaying innocents was almost... too sweet. She explained to him once, that she'd been a paladin in life. Some habits were hard to break, apparently.

And she cared about her sisters. She had three. Each skilled in their own right, and harder to reign in then the undead goblin. And she didn't try. She knew what life led to, and she waited in the aftermath, unguarded, and unforgiving.

"So why answer the Warchief's call, then?" He asked, genuinly curious as to her reasons for obeying the one person she probably could have avoided in all other scenarios.

"She's the Warchief." Crysanthemum replied simply, brushing her cloak over her shoulder. "We must stand by her. For better... or for worse." She began to walk towards the shoreline, her deadened glowing eyes focused on the collosal world tree.

...

"That all ya got?" A grumpy goblin sapper asked as Galaton unceremoniously dropped the remaining sacks on the ground at his feet. Tristee and Azerieh exchanged an incredulous look.

"Are you serious? That was the whole cart!" Azerieh burst out, hands on hips, cheeks darkening. The goblin barely made eye contact with her, scratching at his head and picking at a nail instead.

"Look, There were supposed to be fifty sacks. I see ten."

"The other _forty_ were carried by the others in our group." Tristee said, her voice low and cold. "Or did you miss the towering Orc and Troll's passing through?" Now the goblin sapper looked up, sending Tristee a confused look.

"What are you talkin' bout toots?" He asked, setting his rifle on the ground. "Do _you_ see an orc and troll round these parts?" Tristee scoffed but did look around, and narrowed her eyes when indeed Gartosh and Hem'ti were both absent, and forty bags of rations with them.

"But... they left before us." Tristee said, sending a nervous look at Azerieh. The male goblin sighed, shaking his head.

"Well then, they're probably dead now." He said, matter of factly. "And the supplies pillaged. Hey, maybe you two can go back and see if anything can be salvaged?"

"What are we, peons?" Azerieh snapped, and the goblin went to reply but Tristee grabbed her sister by the pauldrons and steered her away.

"Yeah, yeah, don't get a stick up your bum. We're movin." Tristee said, pushing the bulky warrior towards the forrest. Once they were out of earshot, she stopped, and Azerieh nearly tripped over her boots.

"What was _that_ all about?" Azerieh hissed, readjusting her pauldrons.

"We're not here to deal with him anyway." Tristee replied simply. "Let's head to the shoreline. We should get a clear shot at the action over there."

"But... what about-"

"Seriously Az? " Tristee interrupted. "You heard the guy. They're probably dead. No use in worrying about it now. We could go find Xae and Crys, and start really getting involved, rather than towing sacks around. Whaddya say?" Azerieh crossed her arms.

"What if that Orc had been Krag, Tris?" Azerieh said, poking her sister's exposed collarbone. Tristee flinched.

"He wouldn't have-"

"Yeah yeah, but neither would Gartosh, okay? He's a good orc. Strong too. We should at least give them the curtosy of good old fashioned Horde vengeance, don't you think?" Tristee sighed, rolling her eyes, but aquiesced.

"Yeah, I guess. Let's hurry it up though."

...

Xaedrienne could see the base of the World tree, Teldrassil from where she was standing. She hitched her gun onto her back and clambored over the fallen trees, scanning the beach for a hint of purple. Her subject was found, talking to her companion, a red-headed blood elf, a demon hunter no less, at the edge of the beach, arms crossed, posture tense. She looked around and noticed the Warchief coming from the tree line as well, a look of grim satisfaction on her face. The beach was littered with nigh elven corpses, as well as Horde bodies, strewn about in the sand, rotting and festering with flies.

Crysanthemum turned and acknowledged the Warchief with a nod, which was returned. Xaedrienne quickly made her way to her sister's side, taking a sidelong glance at High Overlord Saurfang and Nathanos Blightcaller as they pulled up the rear. Crysanthemum touched her sister's shoulder lightly, then turned her attention to Dessivh, who was watching the Warchief suspiciously.

"Now that we've secured this area, we should be able to return to Dalaran." Crysanthemum said, her voice delibrately low. Dessivh grinned however, a feral, disturbing smile.

"I don't think it'd hurt to stay and cull what little resistance remains." He said. "After all... a fight's a fight. The Alliance has been asking for this."

"Have they though?" Xaedrienne said, more to herself then anyone else. Her hand sat on her belly and Crysanthemum's eyes trailed to the hunter, widening in surprise.

"You're with child?" She asked her, suddenly looking fierce, almost _angry_. Xaedrienne smiled, sheepishly.

"Er... yes." She admitted, a dark green blush settling in her cheeks. "I meant to.. tell, everyone."

"Why are you here, Xae?" Crysanthemum hissed, her blue glowing eyes seeming deadly in the evening sunset. "Are you mad?"

"I couldn't let you all come here and just... fight, without me." She explained, her hands held up as an apology. "And Hector's here too and I just... I couldn't stay behind, Crys. I couldn't." Crysanthemum exhaled in a gust and opened her mouth to reply when the command came.

"Burn it." Everyone turned to face the Warchieft, who stood, unopposed before the World Tree, her eyes glittering with something akin to fire. No one breathed, and hardly anyone even dared breathe.

"Burn it!" She repeated, the mania glowing behind the red eyes. The Blightcaller lifted a hand and gestured to the catapults behind them. Shaman and mages began to light the slag, while strong Orcs and Tauren pulled back levers and allowed it to fly at the tree. Xaedrienne watched in horror as the tree caught flame and quickly spread across the entirety of Teldrassil, setting the sky aflame with smoke and ash.

"No..." High Overlord Saurfang stepped forth, his eyes bulging and his hands limp at his side. Dessivh's grin only grew, and Crysanthemum watched the scene impassively, her cold blue eyes looking odd with flickerings of red and orange.

"No, stop! Stop shooting! Damn you all!" But the Orc's rage came to late. Even Xaedrienne could see that now. Even if every catapult halted, the tree was already aflame. Anyone inside that hadn't already escaped, would now not have the chance to. They'd doomed the inhabitants to a horrid, horrid death.

Xaedrienne in that moment could think of nothing but her unborn child in that moment. The tears came unbidden, but no sound came from her lips. Her sister, turning away from the torched tree, set a hand upon her sister's shoulder.

"Find Hector, and go home, Xae." Crysanthemum almost sounded weary. "Don't forget what you saw here today." Xae shook her head, feeling numb, and walked off towards the groups of Horde soldiers amassing around the shoreline, staring up at the World Tree; some in horror, some in glee, others indifferent. She searched the line, her vision blurry, her chest heaving, for her husband, when his strong arms embraced her. She collapsed and he with her, whispering lightly into her ear.

"It's okay Xae, it's okay..." He said. "I'm here."

"I... Can we leave? Please. I need to be somewhere else... anywhere else." Hector took her shoulders in his hands and peered into her face. He nodded, then pulled a hearthstone from his pocket.

"Hang on tight." He said somberly, clenching the stone tightly in his hand.

As her sister faded from view, Crysanthemum found herself before the Warchief again, expression impassive.

"I could not have forseen this outcome." The Banshee Queen said quietly. "But they will come for us now. Including you, Crysanthemum." She turned her glowing ember eyes to the Death Knight, with Dessivh just behind her.

"You two should rest. The battles from here on out will be rigorous, and trying." She seemed to speak almost bitterly. "There will be plenty of blood to spill in the future. You are dismissed, Commander." Crysanthemum threw up a salute, and turned heel, cloak swaying with her turn. Dessivh offered his hand and she took it, watching as he pulled out his own hearthstone.

...

"Savage elves." Azerieh spat, pulling her axe from the chest of one she'd killed. "Look at what they did to him!" The two goblin sisters had found Hem'ti, bound to the base of a tree, and, by the looks of what was left of his corpse, was used as target practice, and for sharpening claws. Gartosh stood with them, an eye missing and his right arm flayed open. Tristee had given him a healthstone, but they both knew he needed to see a medic straightaway. Night would break soon, and they would be at a disadvantage with the Elves that roamed the area. They were running out of time.

"Can you carry his body?" Tristee asked Gartosh, using her dagger to slice the ropes clear. Gartosh grunted and scooped up the elder troll with his good arm.

"Let's get him to the front... they can give him a proper burial." Azerieh said, taking another moment to look disgustedly at the corpse of the Night Elf. The trio moved quickly to the shore, when they could smell smoke. Tristee looked up at the sky, and narrowed her eyes.

"I know it's around sunset... But that isn't natural." She said, pointing up. Gartosh and Azerieh looked up, both narrowing their eyes suspiciously.

"C'mon, we shouldn't dally around. Something big might be goin' on!" Azerieh said, clutching her axe tightly in her hand. Gartosh merely nodded and they moved quickly through the forest, following the increasing smell of smoke. As they approached the clearing, it became clear that indeed, the skies coloring was not natural at all.

The World Tree was burning.

Gartosh shook his head and blinked as if he couldn't believe it. Tristee balked completely, her eyes wide like saucers. Azerieh looked on in confusion.

"Did we... Did we do that?" Azerieh asked, pointing to the tree. Tristee was about to reply when she caught sight of Crysanthemum, grabbing the hand of a Demon Hunter.

"Crys!" The Death Knight looked up as Tristee and Azerieh came running over to their sister. She let go of Dessivh's hand, and he observed the sisters warily.

"Who burned the tree?" Azerieh asked, her eyes flickering back and forth. "Did we win Darnassus?"

"We burned the tree." Dessivh said, a glint in his eye as it trailed back to the now smouldering tree. "The Warchief ordered it."

"The Banshee Queen did?" Tristee asked in shock. "That's... wow, that's insane!"

"Many of the Horde died this day." Gartosh said, saluting the little goblins. "Thank you for coming to our aid, Azerieh and sister. And for allowing Hem'ti to be laid to rest properly." Azerieh saluted the orc back and Tristee nodded her head.

"So what now?" Azerieh asked, holstering her axe. "Now we own this area, what are we going to do?" Crysanthemum grimaced. Tristee noticed, and uncrossed her arms.

"What?" She asked the Death Knight. "What is it?" Crysanthemum sighed, turning briefly to look at the tree.

"We prepare for war." She told them, her echoed voice lost in the sounds of flickering wood. "We prepare to fight... For the Horde."

...

And that is it for the Hexknot sisters! I literally could go on forever with these four, but I will never finish any other project so... That's it! Enjoy! Next up will probably be my Draenei Shaman Molniia.


	3. Chapter 3

As It Burns: Chapter 3: Aeleria Frostheart

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A/N: This is an Alliance character's perspective. Aeleria is a Draenei Death Knight, and a good friend of Crysanthemum Hexknot. Hopefully I've done her some justice here. If you want a little backstory to get to know her a bit better, part of her story has been told in my "Moments" drabble fic. Thank you all again!

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"Aeleria, could you help me carry this to the well?" Came a light voice. Aeleria turned her head infinitesimally towards the voice, her cold glowing eyes following until they stopped upon a young elf, her bright green hair wild and free, her bright eyes tired and worn. Teldrassil's fortifications had caused much tension to manifest within the World Tree, many of the elves, worgen, humans and others within, working to help the injured sentinals from Darnassus and Silithus that flowed in from Gryphon back and mage portals. The young elf, Lysendra was a novice priest, and she carried with her the burden most of her kind did; Caring for the injured, sick, and war-torn.

There were many of those today.

Aeleria had seen many wars. She'd been killed during a scourge raid long before the battle of Icecrown, and raised to serve in the Lich King, Arthas Menethil's, undead arsenal. For years, she and others like her had fought, slaughtering hundreds, thousands of innocents, and paving a path of violence and blood so thick it would drown her ledger for eternity. Once, in life, she'd been a Paladin, helping people, healing the wounded and sick. Now, it was all it took not to succumb to the whisper's that death's price demanded.

Aeleria knelt down and grasped two basins in her arms, following Lysendra to the well, where several mats with broken bodies were placed. She could smell the beginnings of decay on one, far to the left, and the lack of breathing told her what the priests had yet to notice.

"The far sentinel has passed." Aeleria told the young elf, gesturing to the sentinel in question. Lysendra set her basin down, running the back of her hand across her forehead to wipe the sweat away. She peered over to the sentinel, a grimace besetting her pale lips.

"That's the second one today." She said, her voice sad. "We can signal over one of the mortuaries, they can take her body to the staging area. There will be a ceremony to lay them all to rest at sunset." Aeleria nodded, waving an arm at one of the mortuaries, a worgen male with a graying muzzle, who quickly made his way over, peering at the sentinel brusquely.

"Another, eh?" He gruffed out. He gently, with more grace then Aeleria would have expected from the creature, grasped the sentinel and made off with her body, taking with him the scent of her death.

"We need another priest here!" A strained voice said, turning Aeleria's attention away from the worgen man. Lysendra sighed and placed a hand on the draenei's arm.

" Can you handle the rest? I need to assist wherever I can."

"Of course." Aeleria replied, her echoed voice eerily disappearing into the strangely foreboding wind. Aeleria moved quickly back into the small structure, tucking another basin underneath her arm when the screaming started.

Reflex engaged her, and her two handed weapon, imbued with frost runes was brandished before her, her eyes scanning for the Horde threat. But instead, her senses were assaulted by something else.

"Smoke! Fire!"

The screaming increased, like a crescendo for a song reaching its peak, and Aeleria spotted flames licking at the edge of the World Tree's edge. A gasp came from her lips as a memory, faded and dim with time, flashed across her eyes.

 _The fire was spreading. Aeleria coughed, her eyes watering as the smoke threatened to consume her. The scourge was here. They were coming. There was no more time. She turned her head to the left, falling upon Samuel, his golden eyes dim and dark skin paler than normal. He was dead, this she knew. They'd all died. They'd all failed. She'd failed. She crawled to him, running her hand down his forehead and closing his eyes._

 _"At least…" She thought to herself as the fire slowly crawled towards her. "The fire will burn our bodies to ash, that we may never be raised to serve that monstrosity." The tears trailed in the soot down her face and she choked, waiting for the smoke to consume her lungs. Fogginess ensued and her vision began to blur when she heard a shuffling movement to her right. Turning herself, grip tightening around her mace, she steeled herself to fight in her final moments. Her eyes landed on a creature she'd seen many of before her people's trek to Azeroth. An Orc, imposing and tall, wearing dark, rusting armor, his eyes a cold, glowing blue, stood over her broken body, a runic axe borne in his hands. His lips curled in disgust, and Aeleria found she could not summon enough light to even lift her mace._

 _"You won't get that reprieve, Draenei." The orc said, lifting his axe above his head, his echoed voice chilling her to the bone. She closed her eyes, and prayed to the light that her death be swift._

She shook herself from the memory and snarled at the fire, unsure of what else to do. She sheathed her weapon and quickly ran to one of the wells, grabbing a large bucket.

"Move! Start putting out the fires! Get the injured through portals! Do it NOW!" Citizens and heroes alike listened, urging fleeing citizens towards the mage in the central square, who had already begun to cast portals to Stormwind. Aeleria took one look at how many there were, and knew it would not be enough.

 _"Do you have to go?" He asked her, his hand resting against her cheek. She leaned into his hand, closing her eyes and just feeling his warmth against her face._

 _"It should be a short mission." She told him, smile tight on her lips. "I will be home with you both before you know it." They both turned to the sleeping child that lay there, her greenish curls framing her cherubic face softly. Aeleria stepped over to the cradle, running a gentle finger down her daughter's cheek._

 _"I'll be home soon, my darling Havanna."_

 _"_ Quickly! We have to hurry!" Aeleria shouted, commanding those frozen in fear into action. "Some of you need to remain behind to fight the fire. Anyone who is able, carry the sick, the elderly, get them to the portals!" The tree was burning. The fire spread so fast she was certain it was too late to save the world tree. Her new primary focus was to evacuate. She nodded to a night elf hunter, her violet locks braided tight against her head, her pet Panther growling at her side.

"We have to evacuate them all." She told the death knight, her voice quavering in anger. "That wretched Banshee Queen set fire to our beloved home. What will remain here but sorrow and ashes?" Aeleria found she had no response.

"This isn't the time to dwell on the actions of others." The Death Knight reminded her after a moment. "Who did it is irrelevant now. We must move to save as many as we can." The Elf's brow furrowed but she didn't argue, instead following the Draenei to the central buildings, that were now on fire.

"Do you know anyone else in the tree who can help?" Aeleria asked, watching panicked citizens trying to avoid the flames.

"No, my guild-mates have already left the tree to fight on the shore." She replied bitterly. "I remained here to help my sister transport the wounded to safety."

"You said you need help?" A voice, rough with anger called. Aeleria turned to see two Night Elves jogging towards them, soot streaks across their cheeks and anger in their expressions. Both had lavender-pink skin, but the hunter had dark violet hair, while the other had moonlight touched white, and the daggers at her hip suggested she was a rogue.

"As much as can be afforded." Aeleria said grimly. "We don't have a moment to lose."

"The Gilnean Queen has been ushering citizens towards the portals." The white haired elf said, her voice rough, likely from smoke inhalation. "The western section has been evacuated. But there's still too many left."

Screaming stopped their conversation and they all turned to the burning structures, eye's widening in horror as they realized people were still trapped inside.

"We have to help them!" The white haired elf shouted, moving with a speed that nearly stunned Aeleria, dodging the flames as they spread across the flammable wood. The two hunters moved nearly as quickly, their bodies flexible and pliant as they scaled the sides of the buildings, their pets circling the ground at the bases of the structures, eyes wide and watchful.

Aeleria ran to the buildings and set her weapon into the ground. She focused her frost magic carefully, willing it to smother the flames. If she could clear the path for the hunters and rogue to clear the house, they could get these civilians free. The frost magic slowly creeped into the fire, smothering the flames and allowing the area to cool temporarily. Around them, the inferno increased. Weeping and crying and screaming permeated the air the same as the smoke and ash and flames. She scrunched her nose in concentration, watching the Night Elves usher their kin down the cleared staircases.

A broken sob threatened to tear her out of her concentration, and she turned her head a fraction to the left, and spotted a rustling bush with a foot sticking out of it. Just one. Taking a glance at the houses to ensure the elves were free with the civilians, she released the frost magic suffocating the flames, and quickly turned heel to check the bush.

A child. No more than at least ten years, if she had to guess, lay there with scorch marks across her cheeks and arms, bare but for a simple leather armband. She whimpered, her eyes shut and scrunched in what Aeleria could only imagine was excruciating pain. She knelt down and pushed aside the bushel when she noticed that the reason her other leg was hidden from view, is because it wasn't there at all. The bleeding was profuse and Aeleria couldn't think of any reason for her entire _leg_ to be missing. She wasn't even sure where the girl came from to begin with. She touched her forehead gently, and the girl's eyes snapped open, wheeling around until they settled on the Death Knight's face.

"Shhh. Child." Aeleria said softly, watching as the child cringed further into the bushes, her bright blue eyes wide in pain and panic. "We need to get you out of here. You're injured."

"I'm scared." The child said, her accent clearly Gilnean. "I want my mum, my papa!" Aeleria gritted her teeth and peered around for any sign of the child's parents. There was none. Nothing but flames and smoke. She turned back to the child, who's skin was pale and near cold to the touch. She wouldn't make it much longer without something to stem the bleeding.

"I'm going to wrap your leg, and then I'm going to carry you out of here." Aeleria told the girl without inflection. The girl's tears made her uncomfortable in a way she couldn't quite understand.

 _"You're hurting mama…" Havanna had said, her hand on her mother's neck, covering the grisly sutured scar from her decapitation at the hands of a death knight years ago. "But you don't let anyone see how much."_

Aeleria reached into her bag and pulled free the silkweave bandages she had stored inside. She personally hadn't needed them, but they would do this child good, with magical properties that would stem the bleeding until she could be seen by a priest, or druid. Wrapping quickly and tightly around the stump that was left of her leg, she reached around the child's back gingerly and lifted her, almost weightless, against her chest. She began to run, the flames encasing the drying grass and blocking their path. A low oath passed Aeleria's lips and she scanned from side to side, quickly searching for a route with the least amount of fire. She could hear familiar shouting and peered forth to see a white-haired Worgen gesturing wildly to a few of the Elven priestesses. Aeleria tucked the child against herself as carefully as she could, and vaulted over a majority of the flames, landing jarringly on the ground just passed the center circle.

King Greymane was holding his wife, who looked to be unconscious, his shouting indiscernable over the sound of crackling and burning wood around them. Aeleria spotted the Elves she'd helped earlier, passing the last of their saved citizens through the portal. One of them, the one with Violet hair and black and red armor stepped forward, her expression inscrutable as she assessed the little one.

"Her parents?" She asked softly. Aeleria shook her head imperceptibly, knowing the girl's eyes were on her. The elf grimaced, anger flashing in her eyes as hot as the flames that surrounded them.

"We cannot stay much longer, sister!" The white-haired elf called to the hunter, her eyes shining with tears. Though from sadness or from the smoke, Aeleria could not tell. Tears did not flow in this barren body of hers. She felt nothing but silence as the screams began to wane. Aeleria stepped forward, nudging the elf with her arm. She turned to the Draenei, a questioning look in her eye.

"Take her." Aeleria said, the command in her voice clear. "Take her through the portal. I will stay as long as I can to assist the mages." The elf passed an unreadable expression Aeleria's way, but made no comment, instead merely holding out her arms to take the burden from the Death Knight's arm. Aeleria deposited the child gently into the elf's care, before turning away from the group, her eyes watching the dancing flames.

"King Greymane." She said, her voice low. She knew the Worgen King could hear her however. "Please ensure the child is taken care of."

"No one will be left untended after this, Death Knight." He said gruffly, turning toward's the portal, wife in hand. "I thank you for your service to the Alliance." Aeleria merely nodded, not turning her eyes to look behind her.

"Champion, you shouldn't, there's not time-"

"I am going to do one last sweep. Please try to keep the portals open a while longer." Aeleria said smoothly, her echoed voice cold. No one replied and she wasted no more time sending orders around. Her hooves carried her as swiftly as they could, and her eyes scanned each area, searching for bodies, for living beings, for anything that could be saved.

The smoke was thick. Choking.

She wasn't sure how long it had been since she'd set off into the flames. Minutes? Hours? Time meant little to one of her status. Undeath froze time, as it had frozen her blood, her bones. Her flesh. The heat seemed into her skin but she didn't feel it. Searching for too long would risk the mage's dying, but she couldn't just leave the tree and its inhabitants to burn. But, her senses as sharp as ever, told her what she was trying to deny; Anyone who'd still been in this area as it burned, was likely dead now. To confirm her suspicions, she walked past a particularly wall-like inferno blocking the doorway of a small cottage like house. Inside, in each other's arms, eyes closed and skin ashen, were two elves. The stench of death was familiar. It made her close her eyes, letting loose a sigh.

Her eyes flew open at a sound that belayed the danger long before it would manifest itself. The echoing crack sounded through the charcoal and blood sky, and she knew the tree's limbs were beginning to fall, and would crush everything and anything remaining in the area.

Her feet carried her quickly and to her chagrin, she realized she'd been gone longer than she thought. The central plaza where the mages had stayed was not close, and she found herself pushing her legs to move faster, trying to ensure the mages didn't die due to her mistake, and nearly cried out in the crackling tree in an attempt to warn them before they were consumed by the inferno. She spotted the plaza from a distance and sprinted, her plate armor clinking and crackling as sparks fell onto it. Only one mage remained, her shoulders stooped and body shaking as she held up the portal, posture frought with terror.

" _Get through the portal!"_ Aeleria called, her voice roaring over the deafening flames. The mage started, turning in shock to the death knight, and the portal began to flicker. A deafening _crack_ resounded above the girl, and Aeleria's eyes shot up in shock as a large limb, doused in flames, fell free from its hold and fell toward's the mage. Aeleria reached a hand forward and just barely yanked the girl out of the path and shooting several feet away before the limb crashed into the plaza.

"What were you thinking?" Aeleria shouted, wrenching the girl up. "You could have _died."_

The girl's eyes were shining with tears.

"So many have died here this day." She said, her voice hoarse and rough. "It will never leave me, the sound of their deaths." Aeleria blinked, unsure of how to respond. But common sense kicked in quickly, and she began immediately to summon a death gate.

"I'm going to get you out of here." Aeleria said, wrapping an arm around the girl's waist. "It won't be pleasant, but you will _live."_ She paused.

"To fight another day."

...

Aeleria struggles most with how she couldn't be there for her husband and daughter after her untimely death and unwanted resurrection. She mostly remains outside of Stormwind, and though she serves the King as many other Alliance, she has seen many a war. She knows that protecting even one life means more than allowing that one to die for her.

I don't know who I'm going to do next, but just stay tuned! And as always, thank you so much for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

As It Burns: Chapter 4: Kayzerie Hydroswivel, Azra and Molniia.

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Hey everyone! Here's the next perspective chapter of As It Burns! This time We're taking a bit of a neutral perspective with an edge of Alliance undertones, but also, there won't be any direct intervening around the tree, as you will see in this chapter, is somewhat of an impossibility for Kayzerie and Azra. Anyhoo, I hope you enjoy this chapter as the rest!

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The sun was shining delicately through the window of the modest home Molniia's brother and his life-mate, Kayzerie dwelled in. Molniia sat at their table, legs crossed and cup of warm tea in her hands, watching the clouds roll lazily by in the pink painted sky from the rising sun. This week had been rather trying, but Molniia was glad the hardest part was over. Now, they were just enjoying the blissful joy of a newborn. Molniia's chest warmed with joy merely at the thought. Little Morska was already a joy to be around, her light sea-green skin soft and dark thatch of hair wild and spread generously around the nubs that denoted her Draenei heritage. Molniia had held her frequently, caring for her often while Kayzerie recovered from the birth. Morska was larger than a traditional goblin infant, by nearly four pounds, and though Kayzerie had done relatively well, she _was_ tired, and often spent time either feeding Morska, or sleeping against her husband's chest.

Azra had taken to being a father well, and embodied the "daddy" aspect wholly, fawning over his daughter in a way that warmed her heart greatly. She was glad to see her brother taking to the little child so well, considering how nervous he'd been before her actual birth. But, now with Kayzerie doing just fine, she supposed he no longer had anything to worry about, save perhaps the almost imminent issue of the Sword of Sargeras piercing through Azeroth's core in Silithus. Molniia frowned.

She'd received a missive from the human King, _Anduin Wrynn,_ in addition to a summons to congregate in Silithus to assist the Alliance in chasing the Horde from the area, essentially. She'd declined to respond, to which she had been chagrined to realize could result in a tribunal should they find her guilty of disregarding a call to the Alliance, but frankly, she was _needed_ here, with Kayzerie and Azra and now little Morska. It put her stomach uneasy to think of what they Alliance really wanted to do in Silithus to _remove_ the Horde and she neglected to mention it to either of the new parents, even going as far as to keep Azra's missive in her bag, unopened. They deserved happiness in their new life, not to mention Azra had decidedly declared himself neutral a few years ago, and thusly wouldn't have responded to the summons anyway. He and Kayzerie both remained out of any and all faction conflict, instead spending most of the Legion assault over the past few years assisting the Shaman Farseers in the Maelstrom make decisions and gather supplies. Kayzerie had been alone and without family since she was very young, and had known Molniia and Azra many years. They were her family now, in more ways than one.

She sighed. She pulled out another, more worn piece of parchment from her bag, eyes scanning the rigid scrawling across the paper with troubled eyes.

 _They're killing goblins here to keep them from mining the Azerite. I know how you feel about this kind of thing, so I wanted to give you the heads up now before you made your way here. If I were you, I wouldn't mention it to Azra or Kayzerie. They'd understand why you kept it from them if they could see what this is doing to the Alliance and the Horde._

 _All my love._

 _Navene_

For this reason alone Molniia had hesitated as long as she had to find her way to Silithus and answer the call to arms. Her hand deftly touched the hilt of the Doomhammer. The weapon had lost the luster of Power over time, and now, though still a delicate artifact, no longer responded to her the way it had these past few years. She missed the thrum of energy she felt in it, but knew it had been necessary to draw the power from the sword. She'd asked a mage to port her to Silithus and back, conferring with Magni and the other champions, ones she'd fought against the Legion with, drawing the destructive power from the blade, and leaving quickly back to Ratchet, intent on insuring her sister in Law's pregnancy went as uneventful as possible.

A flutter of frantic wings pulled her from her thoughts at the same time that the door to Azra's bedroom opened. Azra's eyes blearily trained themselves on the window where a well-groomed Hawk bearing two scrolls sat, its beady eyes peering in expectantly. Molniia felt her stomach drop as her brother walked to the window and cracked it open, holding out an arm and allowing the bird to perch upon it. He swiftly removed the two scrolls, passing a coin into its pouch and the bird took off through the window again. Azra turned the two scrolls over, a frown passing over his features as he passed one to his sister, and ripped the second open.

Molniia tore at the seal and felt her stomach drop again as her suspicions were confirmed. The was a letter sent directly from the King.

Teldrassil had been lost. The Warchief had set it to burn.

"What is the meaning of this?" Azra asked beneath his breath, his eyes wide. Molniia wasn't sure he was even speaking to her. She assumed the letter was more or less the same as hers. Inscriptionists in Stormwind would have ensured copies of the King's missive went to all soldiers and able-bodied citizens of the Alliance, in addition, perhaps, to even the common and untrained.

"Azra-"

"Why would they burn a World Tree, 'Niia?" Azra asked, the distress in his voice clear. "What has been going on?" Molniia bit her lip, suddenly unsure. Had hiding this from him truly been for the best?

"Azra… do you remember when I left for Silithus, almost three months ago?" He nodded, a hard expression across his face. "While I was there I saw… the lifeblood of Azeroth." Azra took a seat, seeming like at any moment he may lose balance. "They're fighting over it, Azra. That's what's been going on."

"They're going to start a war… over something that is killing our world?" Azra stated simply. Molniia nodded, troubled. "No wonder the elements have been… difficult, to commune with."

"You've noticed too?" Molniia asked. Azra nodded absently.

"Kayzerie too, though she's been mostly… preoccupied. We meant to discuss it sometime in the near future but… this now really and truly takes precedence over anything else."

"Not necessarily for you, brother." Molniia reminded him, setting her hand on his. "You are regarded as a neutral party. You can decline to answer the call." Azra's frown deepened and he looked to his sister.

"But you cannot." He pointed out. "You are sworn to the Alliance." Molniia sighed, removing her hand and taking a deep breath.

"You're right of course. I must answer the summons." Molniia replied. "But _you_ don't have to and… perhaps… perhaps you shouldn't get involved at all."

"What do you mean?" He asked, his tone betrayed. Molniia slid Navene's letter to her brother, watching him carefully. His eyes scanned the paper slowly, and his look of solemnity was replaced with one she rarely saw on her brother's face; Anger.

"This is all retaliation." He said. "We kill, they kill. He takes, she takes. There will be nothing _left_ of Azeroth to fight for when all we do is kill one another." Molniia shivered at the unveiled disgust in her brother's tone.

"When will it finally be too much?" He asked, his voice smaller, calmer. Molniia met his eyes and found that she had no answer.

"When there is nothing left." She said, voicing her fears. Azra stood up, tossing his summons into the low burning embers in the fireplace.

"You are right; I will not be joining this fight." Azra told her, his hands at his temples, rubbing circles into them. "I will not involve myself in any more bloodshed, and I doubt Kayzerie would want any part of it even if we _didn't_ have Morska." He turned to his sister.

"Are you going to join Navene, then?" Molniia recoiled at the implied discontent. Azra had been there for Molniia when Navene had left her to assist the Army of the Light so many years ago. He hadn't quite forgiven the Draenei for the times he'd found his sister crying in his name, and made his distaste for it well known to the man.

"I have to answer the king's call, you know this, Azra." Molniia said. "But I will try to remain as neutral as I can. Not that… the Horde has made it easy."

"The Horde doesn't do easy." Came a slightly hoarse voice. Azra and Molniia both turned to see Kayzerie in the doorway, Morska latched to her chest, her violet eyes looking at the two Draenei carefully. "They struggle to maintain resources, land, trade. So of course they're going to fuel a war. It's their way. It's how they survive."

"Have they tried to contact you, Kay?" Molniia asked the goblin. Kayzerie shook her head, shrugging.

"I was never _inducted_ into the Horde to begin with, and I don't affiliate with any of the cartels. I'm about as neutral as they come." She replied, hopping into Azra's arms. "As far as they're concerned, I don't even really exist. Though, I'm sure I have a few distant cousins in Silithus or something trying to help out the Bilgewater Cartel."

"So… you know about the Azerite?" Molniia asked in surprise. Kayzerie shrugged nonchalantly.

"I have correspondence with one of the other goblin shaman's I met in the Maelstrom during the Legion invasion." She explained. "She and her sister lost two of their brother's to the Alliance. They mentioned they were going to Silithus to assist the Horde in the War effort. I didn't know it would result in a World Tree burning." She seemed troubled for a moment, her fingers brushing some of the hair from Morska's forehead. "I can only imagine how people on both sides are feeling. But… I don't want to get involved." She looked up into Azra's eyes. "And I don't want you to get involved either."

"Worry not, love, I'm going nowhere." Azra affirmed, embracing her and his daughter lightly.

Molniia watched them for a few moments before sighing, standing carefully.

"I have to go." She said, tying her bag shut and hefting it over her shoulders. "I will be back as soon as I can."

"Just… be careful, Molniia." Kayzerie said. "Alliance or Horde… sometimes there's something… deeper and darker than just right or wrong." Molniia nodded, kneeling over and kissing little Morska on her cheek. She hugged her brother and sister-in-law.

"I will return." She replied. "Until then… be safe, and be well." She rubbed the hearthstone around it's rune and felt the thrumming of magic come to life. As her body transported to its new destination she caught the looks of worry on her families faces.

Stormwind warped into view quickly and she straightened her back, moving quickly out of the Inn and out into the streets. Many soldiers and citizens alike were bustling about the city, many carrying survival packs and newly forged weapons on their waists. She followed the exodus towards Stormwind Keep, the letter the King had send clutched tightly in her hand.

...

And that's it for this one! I hope you are all enjoying the perspectives of the Burning of Teldrassil. Not sure who I'll do next, guess you'll just have to wait and see! :D


	5. Chapter 5

As It Burns: Chapter 5: Lisabeth Cowell, Marik Alcutt, and Haeydenne Virial

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Hello everyone, I'm back! This will be another Neutral faction with Alliance bias tie in chapter! (Woo, I suppose, I do love my Horde-ies ho ho ho :D) Anyhoo, Lisabeth And Marik are Worgen (Druid and Death Knight respectively.), and Haeydenne is a forsaken mage. Enjoy this chapter, next up I think I'll be hitting up another Horde perspective to mix it up again.

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Lisabeth was trembling, she was so angry.

She had just ceased her pacing to take a seat, at Mia Greymane's insistence, and a cup of steaming tea had been placed in her trembling hands, but it did little to soothe the inner turmoil that threatened to loose what little control she had over her… other, form. She took a deep breath anyway and brought the cup to her lips, sipping lightly, so as not to be rude. The queen raised a brow knowingly, and Lisabeth scowled.

"Remember, child." Mia chided gently, her soft eyes looking on the druid warmly. "We are here to support our fellow Alliance comrades. Not to get involved in this squabble." Lisabeth looked down into her lap, chagrinned. She wanted to argue that it was the Horde who had started it, the reason she was fighting to keep control, but she knew, from the look in the queen's eyes, that it mattered very little _how_ angry she was with _whomever_ ; The fact remained that her healing skills were invaluable here. With so many sentinels arriving with near fatal wounds, with druids of the claw coming in howling in agony, there was not _time_ to feel this… _hatred_ that boiled like a festering wound beneath her skin. But she did. And she was.

"Yes, my queen." Lisabeth answered softly instead, trying valiantly to hide her true intentions to the very sharp older lady. "I am honored to be able to assist in any way I can." The Queen's eyes softened, and she smiled sadly, placing a hand on Lisabeth's gently.

"I know it's difficult, to be up here while the fighting is going on down there." Mia said, her eyes seeming faraway as they focused on the many elves and worgen that surrounded them, most sleeping or resting under the priestess's cautious care. "But we have to remember why it's so important that we're here instead." Lisabeth nodded curtly, but made no reply. She still struggled with maintaining control over her cursed form, and she didn't want to, for lack of better terminology, explode into it on accident; it would give away her true intentions in seconds.

"My lady, there are more young ones coming this way." A young priestess said, her glowing eyes shining brightly beneath a sheath of bright indigo hair. "They could use some calming words, and they do so seem to love speaking with you."

"But of course." Mia Greymane replied, setting down her tea and gently raising herself off the short stool she'd been sitting upon. "Please, lead the way Lydia." Lisabeth watched her Queen follow the night elf off and set her tea down as well, a frown seeming to be permanently etched onto her face. Her hazel eyes followed the queen until she was quite far from view, before standing awkwardly and bowing slightly to the priestess kneeling beside on of the sentinels beside her.

"I need some air. I'll be back." She said roughly. The priestess barely acknowledged Lisabeth except for a slight nod of the head, and Lisabeth stiffly walked off towards the edge of the World tree. She just had this itching feeling that something was very wrong, and no matter what she did, she couldn't shake it. Too many wounded had come searching for shelter from the warpath the bloody banshee had cleaved. Stories of the wisps that charged through the cities in agony made Lisabeth's rage only rise, and she could feel her blood boil as the sounds of nocked arrows being loosed pervaded the otherwise tranquility of the World Tree. She peered over the edge, her feet steadied on a low branch as she strained her eyes to see further into the distance on Darkshore.

A flash of light caught her peripheral and she squinted, before her eyes shot open wide at the site. Large structures that she guessed were catapults were suddenly aflame. Had they won? Did they set the Horde on fire? For a moment, glee enraptured the druid. Served the beasts right, attacking innocents like this, unprovoked. But glee turned to horror in only moments as the catapults, as she had rightly guessed, reared back and sent the burning mass towards the tree.

"NO!" She shouted, nearly losing her footing on the branch that held her up. Other gasps punctuated her terror as the fire from the slag that had been thrown at the tree licked over the edges, catching quickly and without mercy.

Lisabeth wasn't sure when she'd shifted into her worgen form, but she couldn't find it in herself to think about it much. She was already running on all fours, her breath ragged as she headed back to the infirmary where Queen Mia was just turning to her, her kind eyes wide in alarm.

"Fire! We need to get them out of here!" Lisabeth's voice rasped out, gesturing behind her wildly. "There's no time! It's catching too quickly!"

To her credit, the Queen did not hesitate but for a moment before her back straightened, and her eyes became liquid steel with determination.

"Kelana, do you have mages here?"

"A few." Kelana confirmed, her glowing silver eyes trained on the Queen's face. "Anosus! Relendra!" Two night elves, one a light lavender, the other a springy green, rushed over at the urgency in the priest, their cloth robes bustling around them as they ran.

"Grab any more arcanists you can find, we need to counjure some portals to Stormwind." Kelana said grimly. The male night elf opened his mouth to ask when an explosion was heard from where Lisabeth had just run from. Screaming began, and voices carried over, screaming "fire" and "smoke" and pleading for help as chaos began its reign. Lisabeth snarled beneath her breath, glowering at the fire as it spread. It had to be elemental fire. No fire spread this quickly and choked so much life from the very limbs of nature itself.

A shimmering in the corner of her eye broke Lisabeth from her angered musings, and she turned to see the Mages already erecting portals for civilian's to step through. Mia Greymane turned to Lisabeth, her eyes sad.

"Can you assist some of the others around gathering anyone who hasn't already headed this way to the portals?" Her queen asked her, placing a gentle hand on her cheek. "We have to save as many as we can." Lisabeth nodded. The last thing she wanted at this moment was to run around searching for survivors. She wanted to climb down Teldrassil, swim across the bay to the Horde and then- But she paused herself in her thoughts. She would do as her Queen asked of her. She nodded, and took off running as fast as her legs could carry her.

...

"Will your Dark Lady wonder why you didn't answer her summons?" Haeydenne turned to face Marik, a grimace on her face as she folded another of her cloaks and placed it in her bag. Marik wasn't _lounging_ per se, but he wasn't sitting stiffly either. Though, his large two-handed rune weapon was lain across his lap as if at any moment he might have use for it. He also sat in his human form, which, Haeydenne knew, was easier to maintain whilst being idle. There had been a time where he'd had not control over it at all, but undeath had enhanced much of his shapeshifting qualities, and now he remained in that form as often as possible. She stepped away from the bag and walked over to him, perching herself at the edge of his chair.

"I'm not one of her lieutenants, so I doubt my presence will be missed." She said with mirth. "There are much more engaging tasks then tracking down _one_ lowly mage."

"You are much more than a lowly mage." He nearly growled, his echoed voice betraying his natural state. " _Arcmage_ Haeydenne."

"The Kirin Tor could have asked for assistance. I could have been out of reach." She listed off her fingers as she went through reasons she could have been too preoccupied to report to Darkshore. "I could have been held mercilessly against my will by a rogue death knight worgen…" Marik grimaced but Haeydenne laughed, placing a hand on his cheek. "The point is, I'm sure she has many more things to think about then _why_ I wasn't there to do whatever piece of her agenda she wants complete."

"I heard rumor that they marched on to Darkshore and are targeting the World Tree." He said gruffly, his cold glowing eyes training on her face, watching her reaction. Her face remained light, but impassive all the same.

"Marik… I'm all but neutral." She reminded him. "The Kirin Tor doesn't have _time_ to be dealing with faction squabbles. And frankly… neither do I." She placed a kiss on his nose and stood back up, walking over to the bed at the inn they were staying at in Dalaran. She sighed as she felt his arms wrap around her chest, and she leaned her head back.

"I worry sometimes, you know." She said softly. "That with all this anger and hatred between our factions, people will forget to see that there is only one truth to fear." Marik didn't answer, and she didn't need him to. They both knew what she spoke of.

Death, came for everyone, eventually.

A knock at the door had Marik's arms leaving her as he traipsed to the door and opened it swiftly. Haeydenne turned her head slightly and noted the messenger, a page from the Kirin Tor's council, standing in the doorway, looking terrified at the tall Death Knight as he blocked the room from his view.

"Yes?" Marik asked him, his echoed voice causing the young man to shiver.

"Erm… I have a message for… Arcmage Haeydenne Virial? Is she present?" Marik side stepped slightly but kept his cold eyes trained on the boy, who scurried over to the forsaken mage hastily before bowing quickly to her.

"This was intercepted by the Kirin Tor for you. They said you must read it and report as urgently as you can." He sent a quick look at the Death Knight before handing her a scroll, the red waxen seal all too familiar. Another summons. The boy scurried out and Haeydenne frowned at the scroll.

"Presence wouldn't be noticed anyway, eh?" He asked her, quirking an eyebrow. She sent him a dirty look before breaking the seal, her eyes widening as they flit across the page. She looked up, abject horror on her face and Marik was at her side in a moment, hands gripping her shoulders to steady her.

"What?" He asked urgently, eyes moving back and forth from her and the parchment. "What is it?"

"They burned the Tree down." Marik's brow furrowed but he said nothing in response. Instead he guided Haeydenne to sit on the bed, sitting next to her and taking her small hands into his.

"What tree, Haeydenne?" He asked. She looked at him, the exhaustion showing in her face. The letter had taken so much from her already.

"Teldrassil has fallen to the Horde." She stated. "The deaths were… they were catastrophic." She handed the letter to Marik and he took it carefully. The first thing he noticed was that it was not addressed to _Arcmage Haeydenne_ , but rather, _Sister._

 _I am writing this to you of the upmost urgency._

 _The Dark Lady has torched the World Tree, Teldrassil. Many have been burned alive. The death bells have rung. The commanders and lieutenants of the Banshee Queen's armies have left the shore to fortify Undercity, to fortify our once beautiful home of Lordaeron. You know the Alliance will retaliate with no mercy for this transgression. What more could we lose if not our very home, our very identity to another war? I know you remain in hiding, avoiding the hatred of the factions as they go to war yet again, but I ask you, as your sister, to join me here, just outside Stormwind City-_

"She wants you to willingly go to Stormwind?" Marik said, lifting his eyes from the paper, a slight shock running through him at the thought. He himself hadn't stepped foot in the city in almost eight years. But he knew, without a doubt, should anyone spot Haeydenne, they would not hesitate to decimate her on the spot, just for being who she was. Just for being unfortunate enough to have been raised by the Lich King to serve in his armies. Just for not being alive.

"Read the rest." She chastised him, but the mirth in her voice was gone. His eyes rolled back to the page and he continued where he'd left off.

 _-and assist me to aid those we so carelessly destroyed the home of. They won't want our help, and in some ways, they may hate us instead, but I cannot stand by idly while I watch the fruit of our labor beget nothing but death. I know you cannot heal, but you can assist in other ways, and it would be best if I didn't try to go alone, as selfish as it sounds. There are others, who will join me, but well, perhaps someone of the Kirin Tor could convince them we're not going to harm them._

 _All my love my sister,_

 _Allie_

Marik set the parchment down and wrapped an arm gently around the forsaken woman.

"Are you going to go?" He asked already knowing the answer. She frowned.

"She's asking for me to commit to suicide." She acknowledged. Marik frowned, tugging at a strand of her limp blond hair. She looked at him, her golden glowing eyes piercing. "But I will go. Because she asked me. You understand… don't you?" Marik took her hand and touched his nose to hers, exhaling softly.

"And I will go with you. Perhaps my presence will serve as a reminder that what was once dead does not always wish death upon others." Haeydenne's gaze softened and she leaned into his chest, closing her eyes and humming beneath her breath.

...

Lisabeth's eyes were closed, but no matter how many times she willed them to open, they remained closed. It was frustrating, to be constantly closed in by this darkness, but something tickled at the back of her mind, telling her that it was _right_ to be in darkness, for now. Preposterous. How would she fight the Horde scum if she couldn't see them?

Not that she couldn't, her nose was a good enough tool to track down the Horde stench. Even in human form. She frowned. She couldn't smell anything either. What was going on?

Before the panic could really settle in her belly, she heard a shushing noise coming from beside her, as a soft gloved hand ran along her skin soothingly. She wanted to ask what was going on, to voice her discontent, to rise and fight, but nothing would respond to her.

"Fear not, I've given you an herbal remedy that might make your responses somewhat slow." The hoarse voice belonging to the gloved hand spoke, eerily sweet and crass all at once. It might be uncomfortable for the moment not to be able to move or smell, but I couldn't treat you with all the thrashing you were doing.

Lisabeth didn't miss the lack of mention of her sight.

"She's awake?" An echoed voice, low and familiar floated to her ears. She stopped struggling to reawaken her body and listened more intently. The other hoarse voice floated up softly.

"Yes, could you grab my sister? She might be able to help her… adjust, better than I could." Lisabeth frowned as she heard the second voice's footsteps echo off as he presumably went to find the first voice's sister. What seemed like only moments later yielded two sets of footsteps, before someone knelt before her and leant down to tug at something covering her eyes.

Pleased that finally she might be able to see, Lisabeth was met with crushing disappointment as her eyelids flew open, but the darkness continued to prevail. The panic began to bubble again, and she could feel her chest heaving as it began to spread throughout her whole body.

"What's happening?"

"Is she having a seizure?"

"No it's the shock-"

"Well stop her! Hold her down or something!"

"Marik! Talk to her!" Lisabeth gasped small panting breaths and her eyes wheeled around sightlessly. Marik was here? Why? Did that mean that she…

"Lisabeth." A stern, flat voice permeated. She stilled, her breaths still coming in fast. She felt a cold hand on her shoulder. "You need to take a deep breath and remain _calm._ You've been badly injured. I'm … I'm sorry, you've lost your sight." The low whine that came from her mouth was inhuman, and she could feel the stress starting the meld through her bones, willing a transformation. Two more sets of hands caressed her arms gently, both wearing silky gloves, and she felt the sadness overwhelming the desire to rip from her human form as tears fell from her eyes.

"I'm so sorry Lisabeth, I tried to heal them…" A third voice, one who hadn't spoken before, but sounded eerily similar to the first voice, said. "But the fire had completely burned away your optical nerves and damaged the tissue beyond repair. Even with extensive healing the most I could have done was reattach the nerve endings but it… it wouldn't have changed anything." Lisabeth whimpered, her hands over her eyes as the tears fell free. Why was this happening to her? Why? After all the things she'd done, tried to do…. She could feel herself beginning to hyperventilate again.

"Where- Where am I?" She asked, her voice smoky and clouded. She cleared her throat and tried to sit up. One of the females assisted her.

"You're just outside Stormwind's gates." Marik answered her, kneeling down before her. "You and about a hundred others who escaped the burning of the tree." The memories hit her like a tidal wave and she nearly fell back again as they assaulted her senses. The fire. The smoke. The tree branches falling and crushing homes and setting them aflame. Her frantic running and screaming, warnings and shouting. Had it been all for nothing? Would she ever know? She remembered running before hearing a large crack as a fiery branch toppled over on top of her, and she'd become unconscious, waking to no sight, her anger ebbed and her sadness overwhelming. The tears continued to fall and she felt as if her whole world was collapsing around her. A gentle hand rubbed her arm soothingly.

"We know this is difficult. But given time, you will recover." The first voice said, raspy as if she too had been through a harsh fire. Was it one of the Elf Priestesses? Had they managed to save so many as Marik said?

"The… Queen?" Lisabeth choked out, reaching a hand out as if to touch the face of the priestess, to know everything was okay. She was met with nothing but air.

"We… we're not sure. But I could ask." The first female said, her robes shifting as she stood, or what Lisabeth assumed was standing anyway. "Someone may know."

"Be careful." Marik said softly, and it niggled at the back of Lisabeth's brain why he would be speaking to someone else so gently like that? He was a Death Knight, known for their inflectionless and emotionless exterior. But he almost sounded… fond of the voice.

"Always." She replied before shuffling off. Lisabeth took in a gasping breath.

"That's- You brought-"

Of _course_ he'd brought his forsaken lover. How could she have been so stupid? After all this time, had she really expected any less? Had she come to gloat? Come to preen the Horde's victory in front of her as she lost everything dear to her, including her sight? How low could someone stoop?

"Lisabeth, stop." Marik said sternly, his voice like hardened steel. She clamped her mouth shut, the anger boiling beneath the surface. "Haeydenne is only here to help. She took no part in the massacre at the tree. You _know_ she's neutral, as an Arcmage of the Kirin Tor."

"How _dare_ you lecture me on help." She spat, her eyes spilling forth even more tears. "Did you know their Queen is the one who made the order? Who slaughtered _thousands_ of innocents to claim a little piece of land in a war that didn't need to exist? Does she know how many burned alive in the World Tree? Does she know-"

"She knows." The third voice said, lowly, sadly. "And she grieves for you and your people as much as any other. We know death intimately, and Haeydenne remembers what it feels like to watch your people senselessly murdered while you try anything and everything to stop those responsible." Lisabeth sobbed into her hands, not wanting comfort from any source. She'd let so many down, not been fast enough, not stubborn enough, not brave enough… Not enough.

"She lives." Lisabeth looked up, the shock tearing the sadness from her for the moment. Haeydenne had returned, it seemed, and Lisabeth felt her presence close to her. "Your Queen lives."

Lisabeth couldn't help but cry in relief. Though she felt as if she couldn't possibly have any more tears to cry, she was just so relieved to know that at least one life she valued hadn't been lost that day. Haeydenne's hand, without a glove this time, touched Lisabeth's arm one last time, and Lisabeth felt in that moment the rage that had been rising melt into the depths of her very soul. She sobbed into her hands and Haeydenne stood, stepping back from the blind druid.

"We should tend to the rest. She needs some time." Haeydenne said. "This is a terrible time for them all, but many will need your healing touch, sister."

"Yes… you're right." The other forsaken replied. Two sets of footsteps walked away and Lisabeth sniffed, smelling that Marik had yet to walk away.

"I truly am sorry for what has happened to you this day." Marik said, the inflectionless missing from his cold echoing voice. "I know we haven't spoken on good terms in years but… I know you are still strong. You will survive this like no other." Lisabeth choked out another sob, unable to respond to his words. She still held so much hatred in her heart for how she'd treated him when she'd found out he was undead, the guilt nearly consumed her.

"Marik…" She said as he turned away, to follow his forsaken love. "I'm sorry too. It doesn't change how I feel but… I'm sorry that I treated you the way I did. You didn't deserve that from someone you'd loved." Marik grunted beneath his breath, but rested a hand gently on her head before walking off, plate armor clinking against his body.

Lisabeth knew then that, though the horrors she had born witness to had made her the way she was, she had already begun her road to recovery.

...

Alrighty and that is officially the end of that chapter! This one was a little bit harder to write, I want to really expand on Marik's story, but haven't had a chance to do so, but this might give you guys a little more insight to how things are on that side of the house. Those of you who have read some of my other Warcraft fanfictions should be familiar with Marik, Haeydenne and Lisabeth, and even Alstromerea.

I hope you enjoyed it! I'm not sure who I'm going to do next, probably another actual Horder perspective (Like someone who was at the tree when it happened or in the forest or something, I dunnno) Or maybe touch up on Molniia's Lightforged Draenei hubby dude. Who knows. Thanks for reading!


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